


Heavy Games We Play

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Breathplay, Dark, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Fear Play, First Time, Human Castiel, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, Multi, Painplay, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: Cas is close, so close to being safe - until he isn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DickBaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/gifts).



> Potentially greatly triggering. Please tread carefully.

He’s so close to out, so close to  _ safe _ that Cas is desperately ignoring the stitch in his side and the burning in his lungs. The laughter of the Winchester brothers echoes somewhere behind him, nearly sound mocking as he slides across the smooth floor of the war room, dress shoes lacking any kind of traction. He’s so close, the door is there - and so is Dean. He opens his arms, smiling almost invitingly if not for the manic glint in his eyes just before Cas crashes into him. Sam’s not far behind, and they press Cas tight between them. Only his breathing echoes loudly in the room, the brothers nowhere near winded as they hold him captive.

 

“Your heart is beating so hard, angel.” Dean’s eyes flicker black, and his grin only grows wider when Cas’ heart skips a beat beneath near-painful press of his palm. 

 

“Don’t be scared, Cas,” Sam breathes hotly over Cas’ neck. It’s a sharp parallel to the tight grip of hot fingers digging into Cas’ hips. He shivers in the brothers’ hold, trying to jerk away when Sam’s hands drift in and down. “Or, I guess, be scared, Cas. If that does it for you.” 

 

Black flicks back to green, Dean’s gaze going sharp as he drops his gaze to Cas’ crotch. His slacks don’t do anything to hide his hard cock, especially not cradled as it is in Sam’s hand, long fingers framing his hardness for the world to see. He can only watch as Dean’s thick fingers reach out to brush along where his cockhead is trapped beneath the layers of fabric, rubbing just enough to slide the dampness of his boxers along the sensitive tip. Cas doesn’t want to shudder, tries to fight the way his hips buck into the contact, but he’s still so new to being human that sheer will power is not enough. 

 

“We’re gonna fuck you. Gonna fuck you, and it looks like your body is going to enjoy it whether you like it or not.” 

 

Cas whimpers at Dean’s words, at the way one of Sam’s hands sneaks up to wrap around his throat, squeezing tight enough to threaten. Human, he isn’t strong enough to fight off a Knight of Hell and his blood-fueled brother. They undress him mechanically, pulling him this way and that like a ragdoll, ignoring his pleas and smacking or biting him when he fights a little too much. 

 

In the end, he winds up held down against one of the long hall tables, Dean on one side and Sam on the other. His arms are bound, pressed almost painfully up over his head. Thick thighs shoved between his keep his legs parted, the length of his body exposed for wandering hands and biting mouths. Ironically, Dean’s the gentler one - if the world “gentle” even applies here. Sam’s bites are sharp, sucking and he breaks skin just next to one of Cas’ nipples. Dean merely toys with the other, pinching and tweaking with his fingers before following up with stinging nips of teeth. 

 

“P-please. Don’t,” Cas whispers, not for the first time or the tenth, and his words garner as much attention this time as they did the first: none. Instead, there’s a silent conversation going on over top of him, shared looks that he’s never been able to interpret, no matter how long he’s known the Winchesters. 

 

Sam rolls up, long legs easily allowing him to straddle Cas’ chest. The hot skin of his cock falls to rest against Cas’ cheek, faintly damp with sweat and precome so it drags catchingly when Sam gives a shallow thrust of his hips. Behind him, Dean’s keeping Cas’ legs held open as he settles between them, and the intent of the brothers is all too clear. 

 

“Don’t bite,” Sam warms, gripping his cock and nudging it against Cas’ lips. Instinct makes him close his mouth, not certain he can follow the order if Sam is really going to -

 

A hard blow crashes across Cas’ cheek, pain blossoming bright enough to make him cry out. In an instant, Sam’s wrenched his face back forward and shoved his cock inside, not enough to make Cas choke but enough to keep his mouth open wide. Musk and salt seep into Cas’ throat the longer Sam holds himself there, thumb digging into the already-forming bruise on Cas’ cheek. 

 

“I could be nice, Cas. You know that.” A dimple shows in one of Sam’s cheeks as he offers a half smile, a bit of the blood rush  settling in his eyes. “You just have to be good.” 

 

In lieu of an answer, Cas closes his eyes and whines softly. This is Sam and isn’t Sam and Cas doesn’t want to see because he knows he doesn’t have a choice either way. Long fingers fist his hair, using it as leverage as Sam fucks his mouth shallowly. 

 

Dean, of course, takes advantage of Cas’ moment of apparent surrender. Thick, wet fingers shove into him, burning as they force him open and Cas chokes on a yell and Sam’s dick. He writhes when Sam pushes deep, cutting off his air so the world spins as those fingers keep spearing him open, thrusting deep and holding him wide as a third gets pushed in beside them. When Sam pulls back, Cas goes dizzily limp and he hates the way the laxness of his body allows Dean’s fingers in deeper - hates the way his own cock is still hard against the curve of his hip.

 

They keep to pattern until Cas isn’t sure if he’s breathing or not, if the feeling of fingers in his ass is pain or pleasure, if he’s imagining the way his mouth waters for the taste of Sam’s cock. He swallows the mouthful of saliva threatening to choke him, sighing when Sam pushes back in. 

 

Fingers withdraw and the blunt head of Dean’s cock nudges at him, pushes in. Knights of Hell take no prisoners, and Dean’s buried deep into Castiel  in a heartbeat. A sharp wail fills the room, and it takes Cas a moment to realize that it’s him, unmuffled by Sam’s cock as the hunter grins down at him. More tears trickle down to freshen the trails he hadn’t realized had already formed on his cheeks, and it’s almost a mercy when Sam pushes his cock back into Cas’ mouth; at least it muffles the pathetic mewling sounds he’s making as Dean fucks him. 

 

“Tight, Sam. You’re gonna love this,” Dean grits, words broken with the beat of his thrusts. “He sure does.” 

 

To Cas’ horror, a slick, calloused hand grips his dick, strokes it tight and sure and he doesn’t have the experience to have anything resembling stamina. He cries out as his body shudders, sounds still muffled by Sam’s dick. He’s choking in the next instant, come flooding into his mouth, and at least if Cas is going to die, he’ll do it with pleasure burning through his veins. 

 

Sam pulls out to finish on his face, watching in lazy delight as Cas sputters, gasps turning into groans of overstimulation. Dean’s still touching him, still fucking him, and Cas didn’t know how quickly pleasure could turn into pain until he’s sobbing with Sam stroking his face and Dean stroking his limp cock. 

 

“Stop, stopstopstop,  _ please _ .” Instead of letting go, Dean grips tighter, painfully tight as he fucks in sharply. He grunts and must come, but Cas can’t feel it over the shooting pain coming from his dick. It feels like weakness, screaming, but it makes Sam smile and Dean laugh as he pulls his thick cock from Cas’ aching hole. 

 

“Be good, Cas,” Dean chirps, patting the once-angel’s thigh as the brothers climb off the table. He’s left, aching and filthy, face burning as the slip of come from his hole makes itself known. Cas could roll himself off the table, clamber up the stairs that are  _ right there _ , but more come trickles from him as he moves, and he presses his face against the table in shame as his cock gives a little twitch. 


End file.
